


Short Golden Hook Things

by mathildia



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Begging, Bondage, Breathplay, Facials, Gags, M/M, Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-10 19:41:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3301211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mathildia/pseuds/mathildia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I just wanted to put these in a place. All are from my tumblr http://mathildia.tumblr.com/</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Killian. Ball gag. Crying.

"Not that one. That one’s too big. Use the black one." Killian’s complaining from the position of being taped to a chair. Taped with the extra strong stuff they use now, since the time he ripped himself free of standard duct tape via sheer force of will. This stuff is going to leave bare, bald stripes on his wrists and his chest when it comes off, even if Gold is careful. Which he won’t be. 

Gold is holding a red ball gag on a black leather strap. The ball part is a good quarter inch larger across than the one on the black gag, which is staying in the cupboard. “I think not. You don’t deserve the black today. This is a punishment, remember.”

"I hate that one."

"Do you?" Gold is walking back across the shop floor with the gag dangling from his fingers. Killian’s mouth is a tight line in some sort of protest. "Perhaps, dearie, if you told me why you hate it so much, I could rethink. If I…" He reaches Killian and straddles his lap. Killian’s still in his leather breeches, his hard cock trapped inside. Gold touches Killian’s closed mouth. "…understood your issue."

"It makes me drool," KIllian says, barely opening his mouth as he speaks in case the ball he can’t stop staring at is thrust inside.

"And that’s so bad?" Gold smiles.

Killian’s chest is heaving. His eyes hard on Gold’s. “It doesn’t…” he stops, he swallows. “…it doesn’t look good. I don’t look good. Like that.”

"That’s why it’s the best punishment for you. Now open up. Be brave for me. Take it like a man, dearie."

Gold reaches down and cups Killian’s dick through the leather. And Killian obediently opens his mouth, with tears of shame already prickling his eyes.


	2. I think Hook and Rumple needs to see Archie about their UST.

First reaction, well, they would never. How are you going to get them to go. What’s more therapy only works if you trust your therapist and neither of them seem to trust anyone much at all. Let alone Archie. Let alone with this.

BUT.

 

How do you get them to go. Well, in canon we have a way to get Rumple to do things. So we can get him to go. What if, post 4B, Belle’s still got the dagger and, say, Rumple’s reformed (or reforming, supposedly) and she and him are back together and she doesn’t want to have a relationship with someone that ultimately she can coerce to do what ever she wants, because Belle is some over-read, intellectual and she would think that. She’s probably read a story about something like that.

But, everyone else in Storybrooke want the Rumple failsafe ON, and the dagger to be with someone other than him, so Belle has to give it to someone. But who, because holding that dagger gives you essentially the power the Dark One has and it has to be someone who isn’t going to start recruiting child soldiers or fucking over the town.

She might well choose Archie, seeing as how Archie is one of the few people in town who seem to be broadly altruistic and good and sort of intellectual like Belle. And what if, Belle and Archie agree that the one thing he will compel Rumple to do is come to therapy. Because he NEEDS it and everyone is going to agree that this is pretty much the only path to reformed Rumple. He can work out his masculinity issues and his extreme thinking about power. Archie can help him understand that there is a place in between having no power and having total power. 

So they’d work away and maybe Rumple would even start to get somewhere for a little while. Because i think therapy WOULD actually help Rumple. Using the dagger to compel Rumple to go to therapy is a great idea, actually. Until he mentions Hook and the fact that they are sort of brutally fucking each other constantly. Maybe he brings it up or maybe Archie is using the dagger to make him admit things.

And then Archie, suddenly sees a chance to get revenge on Hook finally, because for all he tries to be a good man, Hook kidnapped and intimidated and tortured and either raped him or heavily implied rape and the whole town seems to have forgotten about that, but Archie hasn’t. And the idea of Hook being sexually degraded (and wanting to be) is going to spike Archie’s interest LIKE NOTHING ELSE.

So Archie suggests Hook come to the therapy sessions too, to deal with this, and with use of the dagger and The Dark One’s magic he can make this happen. He further forces the two of them to have horrifically intimate conversations about how they really feel, compelling Rumple and making Rumple use magic to control Hook - like making Hook admit how nothing has ever made him feel as sexually whole as Rumple forcing him and hurting him and making him beg to come. And Archie just can’t get enough of this.

And as Archie gets more and more addicted to this power, he makes them do more and more emotionally ravaging things in session (here’s where your love admissions come in) and, at the same time, outside the sessions, their fucking gets more and more heartless and cruel to counteract all the weird pseudo niceness Archie is getting off on forcing them to do.

And Archie is probably even getting a weird little professional kick out of this too. He’s doing therapy. That’s his job. He’s making them happy, right?

Wrong.

Eventually Hook and Rumple decide they can take no more of this intrusion and team up to get the dagger from Archie. Which works and they violently intimidate Archie into not telling anyone that Rumple is now controlling his own dagger again. And Rumple’s rehabilitation has gone horrible wrong again and the only person who knows the secret, is Hook. Again.

And that’s Season 5.


	3. 23 Golden Hook Headcanons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was for Akaiba's birthday

1\. Killian is much better at tying knots than Rumple. Rumple uses magic for all the ropes, but if Killian can ever persuade him to tie him up by hand, Killian can always get free in minutes. 

2\. Which is somewhat futile when Rumple can snap more ropes out of the air the second Killian escapes. But there’s a little fun for both of them in letting Killian name the knot on his wrists that he can’t even see, then find the weak spot and twist free, sweating and - inevitably - half-hard, only to get more, much tighter, magical rope for his trouble.

3\. Sometimes Killian catches the way Rumple looks at him. Not often, because they don’t spend much time together that isn’t brutal, but sometimes Killian will have to get up to take a piss or whatever and if he looks over his shoulder, he will see the way Rumple looks at his body. He looks more like a demon than any other time.

4\. Killian loves that. He is vainglorious enough to enjoy that his body inspires open-mouthed lust in a monster.

5\. Rumple has offered Killian the magical return of The Jolly Roger if he will give him any of the following. Marriage! A public declaration of our love. (“No, bloody way!”), Your right hand, dearie? A pair would be so much more valuable. (“Fuck off, Crocodile.”), Miss Swan? (“Now you’re being ridiculous. She’s not bloody mine to give.”).

6\. If Killian hadn’t stormed (limped) out at that point he would have heard Rumple mutter, “I’d do it for your hot mouth around my dick, pirate,” but Rumple only said that when he was certain the pirate was out of earshot. It still technically stands as a deal though, as far as he’s concerned.

7\. When Killian leaves the shop, he usually gets to Granny’s by dragging himself along the walls and slumping against buildings. He has a route worked out with lots of things he can lean on.

8\. One time he actually had to crawl some of the way. It was really late at night so no one saw. Except Rumple, he knew Rumple was watching. It made him burn with shame.

9\. He blames this weakness on the fact Rumple doesn’t eat. So when he’s there, he doesn’t eat either. But it isn’t really that at all.

10\. Their current bests: 8 times, 24 days, 53 strokes, 15 hours. They both like to keep score.

11\. Killian’s favourite thing is when Rumple calls him ‘brave’.

12\. He likes it so much it’s almost like a trigger word now.

13\. Rumple says it and: instant erection, weak knees, dry mouth, train of thought lost to the idea of Rumple with a paddle or a cane and him tied down, with The Crocodile touching his reddened, sore, hot flesh and whispering, “Such a brave pirate captain.” And Killian, with jaw set, snarling that he can take, ‘more, please, more. Harder.’

14\. Rumple has casually dropped the word ‘brave’ into a public conversation 12 times. It’s had the desired effect every time.

15\. Killian always storms round in a blistering rage after that’s happened.

16\. Which is, of course, the reason why Rumple does it.

17\. One of the reasons.

18\. Rumple actually knows 4 other ways he can get the pirate instantly and ridiculously aroused to the point of breathless, weak-kneed speechlessness in a public place. It’s his favourite kind of power. Or it’s one of them.

19\. And in private, too many to count. He finds new ones every day. The pirate for all his braggadocio is very obvious in his peccadilloes. Most of them involve Rumple’s tongue, one way or another.

20\. Once, when Killian was tied to the bed, fucked up and marked everywhere, Rumple took off the brace that held the hook - even though Killian yelled at him not to - and he licked the blunt, touch-starved flesh underneath it. 

21\. After that Killian left and didn’t return for 6 weeks. They never spoke about it.

22\. Killian never thinks about how much it turned him on.

23\. Oh, and there’s always a little of Rumple’s come in Killian’s flask these days. The joke seemed too unavoidably obvious to both of them. Rum, right?


	4. Pirate Bukkake

Some acts he especially treasures. Some acts he has waited a long time for. But he is a patient man. So, even for most special, most meaningful things, he still waits for the pirate to come to him. Come blushing and stammering and saying, “I thought we could… I thought you could… Please would you, please…” And he’ll bite his lip and look at the floor.

And Rumple will say something light and dark, like, “Why don’t you get on your knees and ask me nicely, dearie? You know that always puts me in a good humour.”

His jaw will tighten at the suggestion, but he will fulfil it, leather creaking as gets down on the floor. They’re usually in the shop, for this. And usually, neither of them bother to lock the door. He thinks the pirate likes this. Likes the prickle of shame that he could be found like this. But it can be hard to tell sometimes what the poor, broken creature truly likes, when he is such a bundle of conflicting desires. Rumple is sure, if asked, the pirate would say he found the idea of anyone knowing he knelt before Rumple and begged to be used, mortifying.

The pirate has his head down. “Come on my face,” he says and his voice is tiny. 

“Look at me.” The pirate lifts his head. Those eyes. He is beautiful and never more beautiful than when he on his knees, dripping with shame. Rumple wets his lips. “Now ask me. Let me see your face when you ask me.”

“Please. It’s enough that I said it.”

Rumple leans down and takes hold of the pirate’s jaw, lifting his face higher. He can feel the pirate’s breath hitch, heart beat faster at this bit of contact. “You know the deal, Captain, if you want something from me, you look me in the eye and ask me for it.”

The pirate’s chest is heaving. (HIs shirt is half unbuttoned and Rumple knows he did that on purpose. Did that for his delight. And if does delight.) He can see him screwing up his courage. He is a brave man. Rumple has always found that convenient for these games. It sudden and urgent when the desire breaks out of him. Breaks like this, “I want you to come on my face, Crocodile.” He sounds angry, like he blames Rumple for this proclivity. “Come all over me. I want you to own me and mark me. Tie me up so I can’t wipe it away. Nothing for me, just make me take it…” And his voice fades away. But it’s enough.

And Rumple’s heart soars.

He’d wanted to spoil the pirate’s face since he first saw it. So long ago. Then as now, it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. And then it had made him speechless, terrified. but now he had the power to desecrate it. He’s waited so long for this.

Rumple smiles the smile that has terrified ogres. He loves the way the pirate doesn’t even flinch. “Get your clothes off, Captain.”

*

Despite his excitement, Rumple has managed to make this last hours. In the back room, the pirate is - as ever - on his knees. His wrists are taped behind his back (Later the tape will be ripped away, leaving marks he won’t be able to hide). Little clamps bite both his nipples. Several weeks ago, when Rumple had first demonstrated these on the pirate, he had yelled and begged to have them removed immediately. For a time after that, the pirate disliked them enough that Rumple had used them as a threat to get the pirate to do all kinds of distasteful things, but eventually he’d learned to love them, learned to ask for them, learned even to like it when Rumple attached tiny bells to them, that jingled as he moved. 

Maybe that was an exaggeration, maybe he’d never quite learned to like that. Rumple had used the bells today.

He fucked the pirate’s mouth to get himself close, then withdrew and took the pirate’s scarf from the table. He held it up thoughtfully, looking from it to the pirate; and the pirate - the beautiful, desperate pirate captain - held his gaze and slowly, opened his mouth for the gag. 

With a hum of delight, Rumple leaned forward and wrapped the scarf around the pirate’s head, taking his time to enjoy teasing those pretty lips, as he pushed the fabric deep between them. When he tied it off the pirate’s eyes were watering.

Rumple took hold of the pirate’s hair and jerked his face up and into position. “You don’t know how long,” Rumple panted, as he went back to work on his cock, “how long I’ve dreamed of spoiling your beautiful face this way, Captain; of making you mine this way.”

The pirate whimpered into the gag. His cock was hard and leaking; his hips were jerking into nothing at all.

“Ah, but maybe it’s too much. Too, too sweet,” Rumple added thoughtfully. “I’ve wanted this too long. Maybe I shouldn’t.” And he paused, stilled his hand on his dick, and smiled down and the perfect face below him.

The pirate yelled into the gag and started to shake his head, hard, yanking his own hair against Rumple’s grip. Clear and delightful panic.

“Oh, oh, does that upset you, dearie?” A hard jerk to the hair. “Imagine if I did that. After making you beg for it, after tying you up and using you all afternoon on the promise of it, after hurting you and humiliating you? I could just leave you like this. Knowing I wanted to do it, but that I wanted to disappoint you more. You’re a talented creature. You could perhaps make yourself come jerking against the floor.”

The head shaking in response to this is more and more frantic. And it’s that panic, that beautiful desperation that makes Rumple come, in hot white ribbons all over the pretty, pretty face.


	5. The Left One

Mr Gold loved beautiful things. Specifically, he liked other people’s beautiful things. He loved to covet, and he loved to acquire - sometimes even by slightly devious means. Mr Gold liked gemstones, trinkets, bright polished metal…he liked precious, he liked loved, he liked sentimental value - his shop contained so many delicate objects, beautiful treasures and much-missed fripperies, his own memory often failed him as to who he had liberated them from.

When that happened, he checked the ledgers - he kept immaculate records - and always found, in his own copper plate an entry listing name and date and amount paid, for whichever trinket he had drawn a blank over.

Sometimes the details he found in his ledgers would give him pause: an extremely valuable gem that - bafflingly - originally belonged to a poor shop clerk, or a tin pot so insignificant looking it was hard to believe it was worth pawning at all - but for each and every thing he found had an entry somewhere in his ledgers; all except one. The thing he couldn’t explain.

It was raining the day he found it. Raining and cold, like it often was; the sky a lead lined dome, like it often was. He knew he’d see no business today. That today would be one of the slipstream of uncountable days when he saw no face but his own reflection in the morning mirror. So he closed early, stoked up the back room fire and settled in his chair to nap or to daydream. And maybe the chair had moved since he last sat in it, or perhaps he sat in a slightly different way, because, that afternoon, he saw the room from a new angle, and he saw, on top of the tall boy, a pile of books he hadn’t noticed before and didn’t remember acquiring.

Curious, he dragged his chair across the room and climbed up on it. He reached across the dusty top of the tall boy and he picked up one of the books. Red leather with a gold edging to the pages, gold embossed lettering on the spine. All the books were the same, piled up like bricks in a wall - but the real treasure, the true treasure was behind the wall… 

Some late sunlight glinted on glass. Behind the books was something glass. Something made of curved glass. 

Gold pushed some more of the books aside, letting them tumble and fall, some off the tall boy onto the floor. He ignored them. They weren’t important. This, this was important. This was - and he didn’t know why he thought this, but he was certain of it - this was the most important thing his shop contained. The beautiful treasure amongst his beautiful treasures. He was so sure the thing hidden behind the books would be so precious and so special, that when he saw what it actually was, he gasped in such shock he nearly lost his balance on the chair.

It was a specimen jar. The type of jar you might find in a laboratory, holding a preserved organ, or even a creature of some kind, suspended in some greyish fluid.

And this jar contained a hand. A human hand.


	6. How About Carpet Burns? And Breathplay?

Killian was hog tied on the floor of the room they booked at Grannys. “For a special occasion,” Gold had said.

Gold’s idea of a ‘special occasion’ had turned out to be some impossible to struggle out of spelled ropes, and for Gold to crouch over Killian, a hand jammed over Killian’s mouth, and to spit out that Killian was “Nothing more than a filthy pirate, made to be used, only worth anything like this.” Until Killian was *writhing*.

Then Gold smiled and Killian tensed. A smile was never good. “Take a deep breath, dearie,” Gold crooned. But before Killian could obey the hand jammed over his mouth slid up to seal his nose too, with carefully placed pinch of thumb and forefinger.

Desperate for air, Killian struggled wildly, burning his naked body against Granny’s cheap carpet. While Gold laughed at him, and gripped tighter.


	7. Goldenhook - Collar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a tumblr prompt

It’s metal, with a hinge at the back and a lock at the throat. And it’s tight and it’s heavy and it is, apparently, a punishment. Though what he is being punished for hasn’t been explained. But he’s kneeling on the floor of the bedroom wearing it, wearing it and nothing else - and he’s breathing heavy because it’s turning him on.

And there’s another thing that hasn’t been explained.

“How long do I have to wear this for, demon,” he snarls, looking up, eyes flashing because he cannot and will not let thing creature bring him low, no matter what. No matter what. No matter what indignity he lays upon him.

And this is just one of a list of indignities really. Indignities and worse. Tonight there has already been beating. A crop to his arse and then a cane and then Rumpelstiltskin’s own hand, with the pirate pulled over his knee. Weeping at that, partly because he was already so marked but mostly because it was so degrading to be spanked like a child. And there had been a plug and a ball gag and an edging for hours with his hands roped to his thighs.

As Rumpel locks the collar to a chain, the chain to the bed post, he says, “How long, Captain? Only until you admit what you are, that you are my property. That you will belong to me. And that nothing makes you feel as complete as my control.”

“I’ll never admit that,” the pirate snarls. Half choked now by the thing around his throat.

“Then you’re in for a long night,” coos Rumpel, as he adjust the length of the chain, pulling the pirate’s face down inches from the floor.


	8. Goldenhook + autoerotic asphyxiation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a tumblr prompt - not strictly speaking 'auto'.

It’s tape from the hardware store, thick and sticky, horrible really to use on a man like the pirate. He’s going to be left with bare stripes across his chest, however he gets free of this. More tape on his face, all over his mouth. It leaves him with no mouth at all, just a glossy blackness covering almost half his pretty face.

It’s rare that Gold gets to see fear from the pirate who, for the most part, seems scared of nothing; is a man who has cheated death so many times he doesn’t think of it. But now, with Gold’s face a breath from his, a long wet lick over his tape-covered mouth, a murmur of “Deep breath, Captain,” and then Gold’s finger’s sealing his nose… those blue eyes go wide like windows.


End file.
